


Apollo and the Cynic

by Writingfangirlforhire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Genderswap, M/M, Modern AU, Rewrite, Sleep Deprivation, fem!Taire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-23 06:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4865900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingfangirlforhire/pseuds/Writingfangirlforhire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruelle Grantaire moves in with Courfeyrac and Marius Pontmercy. Through them she meets the other Les Amis, some she knew and some she didn't, and their fearless leader. She swears he's Apollo and that she's no good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Home

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Apollo and the Cynic  
> Category: Plays/Musicals » Les Misérables  
> Author: Writingfangirlforhire  
> Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
> Genre: Romance/Family
> 
> I do not own Les Misérables or any of Victor Hugo's characters

Ruelle Grantaire sat in the coffee shop looking at her sketchbook dejectedly. She tugged on her right sleeve while hoping, just hoping, that she’d get a sudden hit of inspiration so that she wouldn’t be bored.

"Grantaire?" a voice asked from behind her.

Grantaire stood up as gracefully as she could with how sore she was from her night of… not sleep.

"That's me," she said, turning. A curly haired young man, dressed in a mahogany colored cardigan and skinny jeans, stuck out his hand. He smiled at her out of one side of his mouth.

"Courfeyrac. I'm the guy interested in another housemate,” He introduced. Grantaire took his hand and shook it.

"Ah, finally," Grantaire with a small smile, Courfeyrac was about 20 minutes late.

"Yeah, sorry about that, my other housemate was going on and on about this girl he met and... well Marius is really nice but he just doesn't know when to shut up sometimes. Anyway, so you're interested in sharing a house with two bachelors?" He smiled and gave her a dramatic wink.

Grantaire giggled and rolled her eyes. She fixed her dark red beanie as he answered, "Well I'd rather be a millionaire but that will never happen, so yeah." Courfeyrac chuckled in response and checked his iPhone.

"So, you said you're an artist? Are you going to Uni?" he asked, looking back up at her with a pleasant smile. She shrugged.

"Yeah, well sort of. I've got one class, that I assist with, and I go to one other class but, yeah. I do art,” she answered honestly. She stuck her pale hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans.

"Any good?" Courfeyrac asked. Grantaire gave a sharp laugh.

"Rule one of dealing with artists, don't ask if they’re any good. Most the time the best you'll get is, 'well I'm not  _horrible_  but...' In my case, I typically try to avoid those questions,” She said, grabbing her notebook.

"Oh, sorry,” Courfeyrac made a teasing apologetic expression before getting out a piece of paper and handing it to her, “So here are the expenses you'll have to cover, it'll be easier having it split up among three people than it was when I paid for everything. But basically it's not much. Groceries, cable, help with the Wi-Fi, stuff like that. "

"Well, that's a lot cheaper than living by myself," Grantaire commented as she read through it. Courfeyrac bit his lip while waiting.

"Yeah, so what do you say?" He asked eagerly, Grantaire looked up to receive a look very close to an eager puppy.

"I think I'm fine with it. You should know, though, that I drink quite a bit, putting it mildly," she warned, grabbing her brown leather jacket.

"That's fine. I drink myself so-"

"No, but, I drink a lot. Like I drink more wine than water,” Grantaire interrupted. Courfeyrac rolled his brown eyes.

"Really, that's fine as long as you're not destructive and  _constantly_ bringing guys home," He insisted.

"Okay... so um, when do you want me to move in?" Grantaire bit her lip hopefully, bouncing the sketchbook against her thigh.

"We could do it today for all I care. I'm not very busy," Courfeyrac offered with a shrug. Grantaire smiled with relief.

"That would actually be good, I get kicked out of my apartment tomorrow so, yeah,” She said.

"Couldn't meet the payments?" He asked curiously.

"Too much money for the space I needed. Oh you don't mind if I get some paint on somethings right?" Grantaire asked, a bit concerned. Courfeyrac smiled and shook his head.

"Oh that's fine. The house is mine, I just needed some people to share it with. Besides, I’d be honored to have a great artist adorning my stuff with paint."

"Right,” Grantaire rolled her eyes, starting to walk towards the door.

"Do you need help moving your stuff?" Courfeyrac followed, opening the door for her.

"Eh, it's mostly in boxes from the last time I moved anyway, so it shouldn't take long. But I have gotten a few extra things since I first moved..." Grantaire mumbled to herself, then she looked up at him, "That would be great, I don't think I can fit everything in my car."

"Okay, we can go now if you want. By the way, you aren't bothered by gay people are you?" Courfeyrac scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Oh thanks. And na, my brother’s gay,” She said with an indifferent shrug, “Come on, you can follow my car, I don’t live far from here. Besides, it shouldn’t take long.”

It didn't.

Nor did it take long to unload at Courfeyrac's house, which was considerably bigger than Grantaire expected. Like, small mansion size.

"Are you sure I shouldn’t be paying more?" she asked, staring at the large house.

"Yeah, its fine, I might be getting a few more mates to come live here too, so yeah, you’re good,” Courfeyrac said, pulling a few of Grantaire’s boxes out of his own car.

"Okay..." she said uneasily as she followed Courfeyrac to the door, carrying a few boxes herself. The front lawn was pretty, the grass was green and it had a nice sprinkling of autumn leaves on it.

As soon as they were through the door, they heard a clatter/crash like noise.

"Oops, sorry," a kind, young voice mumbled from another room.

"Marius Pontmercy, you didn't just break my mum's vase did you?" Courfeyrac called out.

"Courf! You're home!" A young man appeared in the main hall, he had light auburn hair and freckles all over his nose, and he was lanky. It might explain a bit of the apparent clumsiness and the aura of ungracefulness.

"The vase?"

"Oh, no the vase is fine. I just bumped a bowl and it and its contents kind of hit the floor. Ooh is this the lady you were talking about? The artist? Nice to meet you, I'm Marius," The young man energetically walked over and shook Grantaire's hand, despite that she was holding a box.

"Grantaire," she replied quietly, trying to balance the box as to not drop it or its contents.

"Would you like some help bringing in your things mademoiselle?" Marius asked, looking over her head out the door.

"No,  _merci_ , but I think that you should probably clean up your mess?" She said gently.

"Oh yes, of course," Marius said with a look of realization. He left, practically floating away.

Grantaire looked at Courfeyrac who gave her a smile and a shrug.

"He's not always like this, but you learn to appreciate this mood over his depressed one."

"Is he bipolar?"

"No no, that's not it. It's just that most of the time he's happy go lucky, sometimes he's like this, and other times he's the most cynical person I've met,” Courfeyrac sat her boxes on the floor of the large front hall.

"You haven't spent much time with me yet," Grantaire joked with a smile. Courfeyrac just smiled and went back outside to get some more of her stuff.

After they had gotten her stuff inside, Courfeyrac showed her where her room would be on the third floor. It was a spacious forest green bedroom with a queen sized bed, a couch, a desk, a TV, and its own bathroom, complete with shower.

"I feel like the amount I paid for my old apartment each month would be enough to pay for this room for a few days," Grantaire commented.

"It's not that bad, I really don't have to pay that much for the house because it was mostly paid off by my parents. I just pay for the electricity and stuff," Courfeyrac explained dropping a few boxes on her bed, "If you're really paranoid about your painting and stuff, there's a stairwell at the end of the hall which leads up to the attic, which is there for your use."

"This is way too much," Grantaire said, overwhelmed, turning to look at Courfeyrac, "You don't even know me."

"Please don't insult me mademoiselle. After seeing some of your paintings, I am honored to have such an artist in my home,” Courfeyrac gave a grandiose bow.

Grantaire opened her mouth to argue, but closed it out of respect for her the man who was giving her more than her money's worth.

"You might also be called upon to cook and clean. We don't have a cook, but the maid gets every Thursday and Friday off."

"You have a maid?" Grantaire asked, disbelief showing on her face. Courfeyrac was half way out the door but he smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Puh-leeze, I may be a gay bachelor, but I'm a rich bachelor. There's no way in hell I'm gonna clean this whole house myself,” he said with a chuckle.

With that, Courfeyrac left Grantaire in the huge and beautiful room, with her stuff and her thoughts. She took a deep breath and sat on the edge of her bed in partial shock.

How could she possibly be _this_ lucky?


	2. Getting to Know Apollo

1 Month Later

Grantaire practically danced through the house. Marius and Courfeyrac were out and she had the house completely to herself since it was the maid’s day off. She was blasting her favorite music and painting a picture of the door way in the grand hall because the light was fantastic. She was taking a large swig of a bottle of wine when the door opened. She set it down.

“Can you not?” she asked, without even looking, she had a just put a paint brush in the side of her mouth. The door shut. “I thought you were going to be gone all day,” She said, still not looking.

“Well, I would wonder how you would know anything about my day,” a majestic voice said, “but I'll just assume you were talking to someone else.”

Grantaire stuck her head around the canvas and saw Enjolras. Her eyes got wide. She had paintbrushes behind both ears and a paint brush in her hair and one in her mouth.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, she ducked behind her canvas again and removed as many of the paintbrushes she could remember, forgetting the one she’d placed inside her messy bun.

That done she quickly moved around to greet Enjolras.

“Hi. Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone,” She apologized with a nevous smile.

“And yet, the door was unlocked,” Enjolras beckoned back to the door with an amused smile.

“Courfeyrac,” was all she said. She wiped her hands on her paint stained jeans, regretting her decision to only wear her ripped, paint jeans and a green cami.

“Ah well, he is rather trusting of humanity,” Enjolras said with a small smile, looking her over.

“Foolish thing to trust in if you ask me,” she returned, rolling her eyes.

“That's rather cynical. A little trust is necessary for humanity to improve,” he frowned slightly.

“Well I've never seen much improvements in my life,” Grantaire said impulsively. Then, deciding that the best course of action to keep her ability to speak was to go back to her closed off painting, she moved behind the canvas and picked up a brush.

“So that causes you to believe that it's impossible for society to change?” Enjolras questioned, moving to see her better, it rubbed him the wrong way how she chose to ignore him.

“I choose to believe that until there is actual proof of a change in society that it won't happen,” Grantaire said leaning forward and adding some more paint to the canvas. Enjolras was even more irritated now.

“But if people are like you and believe things like that, then nothing will ever change.”

“Hmm but then there are the people like you Apollo,” She returned absentmindedly, fixing a detail.

“Excuse me?”

“Apollo. Greek god. Son of Zeus, twin brother of Artemis. He was an archer, the god of music, healing, light, and truth. It was his duty to ride his golden chariot across the sky to move the sun,” Grantaire informed as she continued painting. She loved Greek Mythology.

“Okay? And why are you calling me Apollo?” Enjolras asked curiously.

“Because, my dear Greek god, you are the human incarnation of Apollo, I'm sure of it.”

“I can assure you that I'm not,” He said with an amused chuckle, forgetting earlier irritation.

“Alas, and to think I'd finally found a god to follow,” Grantaire said sarcastically. Finally, Enjolras moved to see what she was painting and stopped, mouth open.

“That's beautiful,” he said breathlessly.

“Nah,” she rebuffed. Enjolras looked at her and shook his head.

“It is,” he insisted.

“It's not done yet. As far as I'm concerned, it will never be done,” she mumbled yet.

“Why not?” Enjolras asked, surprised. Grantaire still wasn’t looking at him.

“Because, I'm and artist. An artist's work is never done.”

“That's how a revolutionist is,” Enjolras offered.

“Except that a revolutionist is constantly trying to fix the same things because humanity always falls back.”

“Again. A rather cynical statement,” Enjolras raised an eyebrow. So they were back on this again.

“I'm a rather cynical person,” Grantaire returned carelessly, still painting. Enjolras rolled his eyes and decided to switch subjects, like a mature adult.

“Do you ever get paid to do paintings?” He asked, watching her paint.

“Sometimes. Not often enough that I could live on it,” she mumbled.

“What if there was something I wanted to you to paint?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck. He thought of something that Feuilly had mentioned to him.

“You would ask and I would ask how much you want to pay for it,” she answered absentmindedly, she took a drink of wine while looking at her painting.

“And then?” Enjolras prompted, interested in this odd person. Grantaire finally looked at him and shrugged.

“I'd say sure. Because I need money,” she answered bluntly.

“What if there was a painting that I needed made for someone?”

“Same deal.”

“And it had to be very specific,” Enjolras continued.

“You'd have to be very specific,” Grantaire said frankly. Finally she stepped back, away from her paining, “I think that's good enough.”

“Good enough? Mon Dieu, that's magnificent,” Enjolras said passionately.

“Then take it. Ten bucks and it’s yours,” she said with a shrug as she gathered her paintbrushes, “Heck, I’d give it to you for five.”

“Twenty,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire looked at him sharply, in surprise.

“Ten,” she said, eyebrows furrowed.

“Thirty. Trust me I won't go lower,” Enjolras crossed his arms stubbornly, studying her.

“Fifteen.” She frowned.

“Forty.”

“God damn it. It's not worth forty,” She said exasperatedly, returning to gathering her supplies.

“Yes it is. In fact it's worth closer to $400,” Enjolras said. He pulled out his wallet. Grantaire dropped her supplies back onto the table she’d been using.

“NO nonononnono,” Grantaire said as she backed away, hands up. Her face paled as she looked at the money he was pulling out.

“No,” she said firmly. Enjolras raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fine. $400 for this painting and another one that I want done.”

“I can't-” she started to make up an excuse.

“You're supposed to say sure,” Enjolras said with a smirk. Grantaire pressed her lips together, unamused with him reference to their earlier conversation.

“You see, this painting is going to be for a child's foundation that is opening in a few weeks. The others and I have been helping get this thing started, and I want a painting made to commemorate the occasion. It needs to be big. What's the biggest canvas you have?” Enjolras continued.

“I don't know. I was going to go shopping the next time I got paid. I might have a 20x20,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Which is how big?”

“It's a square with a 400 inch area,” Grantaire said, rolling her eyes.

“Okay is that a really big one?” Enjolras asked, obviously having no clue.

“You really know nothing about art do you?” she chuckled turning back to her art supplies.

“I'm a politics major,” he replied, absentmindedly playing with some of her clean brushes. Grantaire sighed and pushed a stray, black curl out of her face with the side of her hand, she had paint on her fingers. She suspected that she still managed to get paint on her forehead because Enjolras smiled while looking at the top of her head. He was actually looking at the paintbrush.

“I would suggest, if you want a really large canvas, that you have me get a 36x48. It does cost more but it's a really large canvas.”

“Okay,” Enjolras said slowly. Grantaire suddenly turned into a business woman and started talking about numbers and such, mostly to herself.

“A 36x48 would cost about $100 at my normal place, plus the cost of paint since I'm low would figure to anywhere from $100 to $200, add that to the cost of time spent on the painting and the cost of talent.... that painting alone should cost $400,” She was saying to herself, right hand over her mouth in a thinking stance.

“So what about $500?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire looked over at him as if she'd forgotten he was there.

“$500 for the painting I'm ordering and this one,” Enjolras clarified, motioning to the painting that Grantaire had just finished.

“Fine. But I owe you a drink sometime,” Grantaire said, making a hand motion as if she were dismissing some thought.

“Is that a promise?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire looked up at him, she paled slightly.

“Um.... I don't know,” She stuttered. Enjolras was confused by her reaction. They stood there in awkward silence for a little while, Grantaire's music was playing “Once Upon A Dream,” by Lana Del Rey. Grantaire suddenly jerked away towards another room, taking her supplies with her. Enjolras followed her, curious. She was mumbling something to herself. She put her supplies in a kitchen sink. Then she turned around and looked at him.

“Come with me,” she commanded. Enjolras was kind of surprised, since he was normally the one giving orders. She speed walked to the stairs in the hall and took them, two steps at a time, up to the third floor. Then she walked down another hallway to another set of stairs and followed those up to the attic.

Enjolras was winded by the time he got up to the top. Grantaire was breathing heavy but seemed focused on something else.

“I'll need a picture, a big one. Not quite as big as the canvas of course, but big enough to get the details big,” She said, half to him half to herself. Quickly she poured herself a drink from a bottle of wine sitting on a box. Then she moved to the window and pulled the curtain to the side, she repeated this action with the two other windows.

“The light's good, if I need another light fixture, I can always ask Feuilly. He keeps some on hand when he's painting his fans,” this time it was obvious to Enjolras that he was just something for Grantaire's voice to bounce off, “Of course, I'd need to allow time for eating and sleeping, but I can do that while the paint dries. I might want to take some extra time to- no I need to see what the picture is like before I- but it doesn't hurt to plan ahead- except that I- well actually I might not.....” Finally Grantaire looked over at him.

“I need a picture before anything else,” She said firmly. She moved past him, refilled her glass of wine and exited the attic. He frowned, while he'd been there, he'd seen her consume the equivalent of four glasses of wine.

He followed Grantaire down the three flights of stairs and into the sitting room. She sat and looked at him.

“Why did you come here in the first place?”

“Three things,” Enjolras said, almost surprised she was asking, “Marius had borrowed a book of mine on the battle of Waterloo-”

“Oh I know where that is,” Grantaire interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Oh, good. Second was too ask you about the painting. I'd originally planned on asking Feuilly or a professional to do it but after talking to Feuilly, he said that you were slightly less busy than he, and that you were better. Third I wanted to ask Courfeyrac something. I didn't know he was out today,” Enjolras explained. Grantaire took a drink of her wine before setting it down and getting up.

“I'll get your book.”

“Well I didn't know whether he was done wi-”

“He is. He was actually telling me before he left this morning that he needed to get that back to you.”

When she returned with it, Enjolras was looking through her sketchbook, she felt a sudden bit of panic.

“Um,” She cleared her throat loudly, Enjolras looked up at her before looking back down at her sketchbook, “I brought you your, uh, your book.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I take a message for Courf?”

“Mm I was just going to ask him about the rally for this weekend.”

“What's it about?”

“It's a rally for a little girl fighting a disease that's never really been investigated. We're rallying to raise awareness for the disease.”

“Hmm,” Grantaire hummed, bouncing nervously as Enjolras immediately went back to flipping through her sketches after explaining everything. She loved the look of passion he got when talking about the rally.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked.

“No thank you.”

Grantaire quickly set his book in front of him on the coffee table and left the room, he was getting dangerously close to the sketch of him and she hoped that by her leaving, he would feel like he should too.

She checked her painting and added one last touch and her name at the bottom.

She went into the living room and poured herself a bit of scotch. She sat at the bar, thinking and drinking.

“Is this me?”

Grantaire turned to look and saw Enjolras pointing at the sketch she'd made at the meeting. It was of him, but dressed in Greek tunics, bow raised.

She nodded and took another sip of the scotch. Enjolras frowned at the scotch then looked back at the sketch.

“When did you do it?”

“After I met you, obviously,” she said vaguely.

“It's.... um, flattering.”

“Yeah well, glad you're flattered by it,” she muttered before taking another drink.

“Why do you drink so much?”

“Because I can.”

“Why waste you're money on alcohol when you could use it to further good causes?”

“Because I find that I'm a lot better of a person when the terrible, ugly, human race around me, is blurred by the sweet, loving embrace of the bottle,” She snarked.

“The human race isn't ugly,” Enjolras said, angrily.

“You're right,” Grantaire said, standing up and downing the last bit of scotch, “It's not. It's cancer. Trying to live by killing everything good around it. It eats and feeds and kills and sickens the beautiful creation around because it wants to live. Because it's just superior enough that it can do it.”

“That's a rather cruel way to view things,” Enjolras said coldly.

“The universe is cruel. Humanity is cruel. Kudos to you if you can fix that,” Grantaire bit out sharply. Enjolras set his jaw but shook his head.

“You mock my cause?” he suggested angrily.

“I don't mock your cause. I wouldn't dare. No I just choose to have a realistic realization of reality that you hold a rally in a public place to raise awareness for something and most people will just drive by and forget about it. Because that's what people do. They say, 'oh yeah, that's a good cause. I'm glad someone's doing something about it, I hope they do well,' but then they forget about it and it ends up all for naught,” Grantaire ranted.

“That's why the Les Amis De ABC are here,” Enjolras practically shouted, throwing his hands in the air, eyes flashing with passion, “Because people don't do anything about these good causes around them. Because they say, 'oh good I hope they do well' and forget. Because someone needs to remember. Because someone needs to try. If nobody tries than all you get is 'oh that's nice' and nothing comes from it,” Enjolras started pacing back and forth, moving his hands and head as he talked. Grantaire watched in awe, “Because the truth of society is that if someone doesn't take initiative and start a good cause, nobody will. That's what our group is for, to take initiative with the goal of changing society. Because we believe that it's possible to change.”

As his rant slowed down his conviction and passion didn't. Grantaire just gazed at him as if in a vision. Finally he was finished and he looked at her.

“What?”

“I can see why they follow you,” She said slowly, “If I were a changeable woman, I would trust you to start that change.”

“You may yet.”

“Nah,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. Enjolras opened his mouth to reply when his phone went off. He pulled it out and read a message.

In that time Grantaire had poured herself another glass of wine. He looked back up at her and frowned.

“I have to go. Combeferre needs my help with something.”

“It's all fine. The painting's not done drying yet. But I can have it delivered.”

“Just bring it to the next meeting,” Enjolras said walking out of the kitchen and into the Main hall. Grantaire followed him to the door.

“I'll get you that picture,” he said as he was about out the door, “Good day mademoiselle.”

“Monsieur,” Grantaire said by way of good bye. He gave her a nod and left, closing the door on the way out.

Her dreams featured Apollo that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thar ya go


	3. Text Among Amis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Texts among the Amis concerning Grantaire

Hey E? Ya um... wat have u done? - Courf

What do you mean?-E

Taire hasn't left the attic for 8 hrs- Courf

Oh, she's doing a painting for the foundation- E

Well shes supposed 2 cook supr 2nite but when I asked her wat she’s making, she told me 2 “fuck off which ever one of you it is. I'm painting.”- Courf

So? She's working hard I guess. It's hardly my fault. Work on your grammar Courfeyrac, I could barely read that.- E

***

Any chance you know what's wrong with Taire? - Ferre

Mon Dieu! She's doing a painting for the kids’ foundation opening. Why does the whole goddamn country need to know? - E

Alright, alright, no need to get huffy. She only just threw a full bottle of wine at me. So naturally I'm concerned about her mental health and all of ours physical safety- Ferre

***

Pretty sure that it's not sanitary or healthy for Grantaire to go this long without eat, sleep, or a shower. I've been over here for 5 hours and Courf says that she's been like this for over 20 hours- Joly

I told her to do it on her own time okay? It's not my fault that she's being so obsessive about it! - E

Just saying man, but it's not safe for someone to inhale acrylic gasses for that long- Joly

Then you go tell her that- E

Not a good idea. She threw food at Courf. We may need a psychiatrist- Joly

Just let her work. It's for a good cause. And quite possibly the only thing she'll do for a good cause- E

***

Dude, 32 hours sober. This is dangerous for her health- F

Dammit why are you guys bothering me about this?! I've got to plan for the opening. Just let her finish and buy her a drink then. It's probably good that she's sober. At least she backed off of being a wine cask for the time- E

Is that the only thing you can say for a girl who gave up her hamartia to spend 32 hours in acrylic fumes for a goddamn painting?- F

Feuilly, she's an artist. She's used to it I'm sure- E

Just saying man, you might be a bit more appreciative about it- F

I'm paying her to do it- E

So? - F

So, it's not like she's making a huge sacrifice- E

***

Quick q, do you want the birds in the painting? I just thought about that, there are some birds in the picture and, not that they take anything away from it, but they're a bit blurry and kind of look more like dark splotches. I can make them actually look like birds if you want- G

I'll leave it to your artistic discretion- E

Update: I choose to make them look like birds. I'd expect only one day more if I don't make any mistakes- G

 

Shit. Make that two days- G

***

This is unhealthy man- M

Isn't she done yet? - E

I just heard screaming. I think that I should go investigate- M

I'll take that as a no. What happened? - E

Marius? - E

Walking up to the attic now. Armed with coffee and a sandwich- M

Update: About to approach G. Pray for me- M

God isn't real Marius.- E

About to enter. God save my soul.- M

Hasn't thrown anything yet- M

Accepted offerings of peace- M

Apparently the lighting on one child's head is off “a bit” and so she has to re-do it. It looks amazing to me- M

G is getting irritated. Making a hasty retreat- M

Update: She threw a jar of paint at me. Now I have to wash black paint out of my hair. She might be crying. Is that okay? Do artists do that? - M

***

Courf came home. G’s screaming again. It sounds like a pirate- M

I take it that Grantaire isn't going to come to the rally tomorrow morning? - E

There's a rally tomorrow? - M

Yes there's a rally tomorrow! You forgot!?- E

Courf and I have been busy trying to get G to consume at least one drink of liquid and an object of sustenance per every four hours. Rallies haven't been at the forefront of our mind- M

It's important! - E

We're having a meeting tonight! - E

Courf and I aren't coming. We've vowed not to leave Grantaire alone in the house while she's working on this project so Courf's staying home and I'm having dinner at Cosette's tonight. - M

Who cares about Cosette, Marius!? We've got an important goal to strive toward- E

Shit. G just appeared. Has collapsed onto Courf's lap. I think she's sobbing- M

Um, is it normal for artists to sob when they're done? - M

She’s STILL crying. I think she’s done. But is that healthy?

Why the hell are you asking me? I'm working on a politics essay- E

Right, in other words you don't care? - M

I care. Some- E

Oh god. - M

I txted Joly. Says that this isn't healthy- M

Grantaire. Not you. You're acting perfectly normal. Mostly, like an asshole. - M

Courf and I are scared now. I think she's unconscious- M

Okay, well I hope that she feels better. I got a meeting to go to- E

LIKE HELL YOU DO! GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OVER HERE ENJOLRAS I HAVE AN UNCONCIOUS ARTIST WHO JUST GOT DONE CRYING HER FUCKING EYES OUT ON MY LAP IF YOU AREN'T OVER HERE IN 5 FUCKING MINUTES THEN I'M NEVER COMING TO ANY MEETINGS AGAIN YOU IGNORANT ASSHOLE- M

Sorry, that was Courf. But I agree with almost everything he said- M

Fine. I'm on my way- E

Wait. Did Courfeyrac just use proper speech in texting? –E

Get your skinny ass over here- M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing just the texts. But Making Courfeyrac be a terrible-text-speech-person killed me. Please review!


	4. In Which a Whole Fucking Lot of Shit Happens

Marius told Courfeyrac that Enjolras was coming.

“Good.”

“Did you have to curse so many times?” He asked nervously.

“Yes. It felt good to get that out,” Courfeyrac said sharply, “But I'm still pissed at him. This is his fault.”

“You can't know that,” Marius tried to defend his leader, “I agree that he could be a bit more sympathetic, but you can't just say that this is his fault.”

“I can. And I am.”

“Do you think she's alright?” Marius asked, changing the subject, putting a hand on Grantaire's cheek.

“I don't know,” Courfeyrac's voice softened. 

They sat in silence, Courfeyrac was petting Grantaire's hair.

 

**Ding dong.**

 

“That should be Enjolras,” Courfeyrac said quietly, nodding towards the hall. Marius went and opened it and there indeed was their fearless leader, hair a mess, looking unimpressed.

No words were said. Marius just turned away and left the door open. Enjolras bit the inside of his cheek and followed, closing the door. He could tell they were mad.

“I called Combeferre and Joly. They're both coming,” Enjolras finally said as he stood in the doorway to the sitting room.

Courfeyrac was sitting on the loveseat. Grantaire's body was sort of wrapped around him, her right arm was thrown over one shoulder and she had buried her face into his shoulder, her left arm wrapped around his abdomen. Courfeyrac looked a combination of concerned and mad.

Concerned for Grantaire. Mad at Enjolras. It was obvious.

“She didn't even say anything,” Marius said after a little while, “Courf was sitting there watching TV and she just burst into the room, tears streaming down her face, and curled up on him like that and started sobbing. Then she just kind of stopped.”

“Is she breathing?”

“Yeah,” Courf finally said sharply. He was definitely pissed at Enjolras. 

“Have you tried to wake her?”

“I've talked to her,” he said stonely.

“She replied?”

“No. I guess I should say I talked at her,” Courfeyrac corrected himself, not looking at Enjolras. Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he could help but feel a bit of concern for both Grantaire and Courfeyrac.

“What happened? Do you know?” Enjolras asked as he took his jacket off. 

“No. I had Marius go upstairs to see if she messed up or something.”

“And?” 

“Nothing,” Marius sighed, “It looked amazing. It looked better than the picture ha-”

 

**Ding dong ding dong**

 

Marius stopped speaking and went to open up the door and Joly, Combeferre, and Jehan, who'd been with Joly, came in. Joly quickly brushed past Enjolras and felt for a pulse on Grantaire.

“Pulse. Good. Breathing. Good. She's warm. Good. A little clammy,” Joly murmured to himself.

“She was crying remember,” Courfeyrac reminded.

“No this is a cold clammy. Like the rest of her is warm, but her hand is clammy. Feels like a fever,” Joly said, holding a hand to her forehead. 

“How was she acting before she passed out?” Ferre asked he had a notebook out, like he was taking notes for a test.

“She was crying,” Courfeyrac answered sharply. Ferre raised an eyebrow at Enjolras.

“How hard?” Joly asked.

“Body racking sobs,” Marius offered hesitantly.

“I see. Did she say anything,” Ferre asked, jotting down notes quickly.

“Nothing. She just cried,” Courfeyrac glanced at Enjolras, “We don't even know why.”

“Okay what about the painting?” Combeferre asked, glancing at Enjolras, a bit concerned about Courf's apparent hostility towards their leader.

“Already asked about that,” Enjolras finally spoke, “Marius said it looked perfect.”

“Hm, what was her behavior like today?” Joly asked, “Were there any emotional clues to physical irritation? Any changes in habits?”

Courf looked at Marius expectantly, Marius had been home more today.

“Um, she was irritable, she kept screaming at something. Not like a scared scream but an angry scream. She didn't eat the food I brought her. She may have taken a sip of the coffee. The wine was untouched. She came down once this morning and ate a piece of toast, she complained of a headache. I told her to go to sleep but she said it was fine she'd just take an Advil and go back to painting. Except for the screaming, that started at about three this afternoon, she's been pretty quiet all day. She told me she took a shower, which I think is the most non-painting-related thing she's done for the past 48 hours,” Marius said, then he shrugged, “I think that's it.”

“Interesting,”Combeferre mumbled, writing notes hastily.

“I think we can wake her up,” said Joly, “but we should carry her up to her room first.”

Courfeyrac put his arms under her and picked her up without any help.

“Isn't that hard?” Jehan asked, it was the first thing he'd said. 

“She hasn't been eating anything or drinking beer,” Courf said, “She's lost more weight in more time than what is healthy.”

“I'd say,” Joly agreed. 

Courf carried Grantaire all the way up to her room on the third floor. He laid her down in bed and waited for Joly who was looking at his phone.

“I'd suggest having Jehan wake her up,” Combeferre said as Joly reached forward to shake Grantaire.

“Why?” Joly stopped. Everyone looked at Ferre, who was studying his notes.

“She told me the other day how much she loves Jehan. She said that he reminds her of a spider's web, fragile, delicate, intricate, and beautiful. Her behavior is spontaneous and irrational, I'd guess that seeing you guys wouldn't give her a reason to act any differently, and she might react violently or irrationally, but if she sees Jehan, then she might find a reason to get control of herself to protect him.” He looked up from his notes to see Courfeyrac's expression change from concern to fury.

“What are you saying?” Courfeyrac asked, standing up, “Are you saying that she's fucking mental?”

“Calm down Courf,” Marius said quietly, putting an hand on Courfeyrac's arm.

“I will not calm down!” Courfeyrac whisper shouted, “Ruelle Grantaire is not fucking mental. She's a rock. Ever logical and realistic. She's the least likely person to be mental in the history of such.” 

“Courf, it could happen to anybody. I talked to Feuilly, he said that she has to take weeks off every so often. No body knows why, but he said that one week, she was acting depressed in class and then she wasn't there the next week. For all we know she could be bipolar,” Ferre said, logically.

“No. She's not. She hasn't had any high highs or low lows or anything while she's been here,” Marius answered softly. One would be deceived if they thought that he wasn't mad. Enjolras noticed that Marius's fist was clenched to the point of being white knuckled, “Grantaire is the least likely person to be-”

“Let's just have Jehan wake her up,” Enjolras finally interrupted, “Get it over with.”

Courfeyrac grit his jaw and finally nodded before turning away and running his hands through his hair. Marius took a deep breath and moved out of Jehan's way.

Jehan frowned at his friends as he sat down on the side of the bed and took Grantaire's hand.

“Grantaire,” He said softly, gently shaking her shoulder, “Hey, it's Jehan. Wake up.”

“gngh mfflbte,” came out of Grantaire's mouth. 

“Hey, hey, it's me. Jehan. Wake up carefully, you're in a room full of men and you don't want to embarrass yourself,” He added lightly. 

“Fikin ge ou,” Grantaire said, jerking her hand away and rolling away from him. Courfeyrac and Marius exchanged glances. 

“This isn't working,” Courfeyrac leaned over to Combeferre and said, he had a bit of venom in his tone.

“Give him a few more tries then you can do it your way,” Ferre returned passively. 

“Hey, Taire? Listen I need to talk to you,” Jehan said putting a hand on Grantaire's arm.

“Out,” she said, word clear this time.

“Come on, wake up more. Please?”

“Ngh mmbimmbmm.” 

Jehan looked up at them, shrugged and stood up.

“Fine,” Ferre said quietly. Courfeyrac went to the bed and sat down beside Grantaire. He motioned to Marius who did the same on the other side. 

“Oh Danny boy, the pipes the pipes are calling,” they started singing together quietly, “from glen to glen and down the mountain side,” They slowly got louder, Grantaire tried to curl up into herself, but Marius was too close to allow that, “The summers gone, and all the roses are falling, its you, its you must go and I must bide.”

“FINE!” Grantaire finally said, “I'll fucking wake up now. Leave me the fuck alone you assholes.” she mostly sounded exhausted.

“But come ye back, when summer's in the meadow, or the valley's hushed and white with snow,” they kept singing. Everybody wondered whether this was something they did often, “And I'll be here, in sunshine or in shadow.”

“Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so,” Grantaire finished elbowing Courfeyrac hard, “I get it. I'm up. What the hell do you want?” She struggled to lie on her back and blink up at her boys.

“You came downstairs, threw yourself onto me, and started sobbing before passing out,” Courfeyrac said bluntly. Grantaire sat up and looked at him.

“Shit,” She muttered rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“What happened?” Ferre asked.

“SHIT shit shit shit shit shit shit,” Grantaire chanted as she stood up in the bed, leapt off of it, and rushed out of the room, the boys ran after her.

She then ran down the hall and up the stairs. Enjolras was closest to her so he followed most closely. Joly was yelling for her to keep her heart-rate down.

“No no no no no no no no no no, NO. Agh!” Grantaire was checking her painting. Enjolras moved so he could get a good look at it and froze. 

It was perfect.

Grantaire was getting out some paintbrushes.

“Stop,” he commanded, Grantaire froze at the commanding sound of his voice.

“I was just gonna-” she motioned to it weakly. She looked pale and her eyes were a bit sunken in. 

“No. This. This is what I want. No better,” Enjolras said, nodding to the painting.

“But the-” she motioned desperately.

“Nope. I don't care if you forgot a detail or if you think something is the wrong shade,” Enjolras said, he hoped his tone was encouraging, “This right here is perfect. It's exactly what I want,” he turned to Grantaire and smiled, “Thank you so much. It's gorgeous.” 

Then he noticed she was shaking, but he wasn't going to point it out so he walked over and enveloped her in a hug. She collapsed in his arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear, “Now when do you wanna get that drink?”

He'd figured out what it was.

She was suffering withdrawal from alcohol without adequate sustenance.

He led her downstairs, into the kitchen. As he passed by Courfeyrac he suggested that Courf go to the meeting and explain what happened. As he passed Marius he reminded him of his dinner with Cosette. As he passed Jehan he smiled. For Combeferre he told him to go home. And for Joly had ruffled his hair and told him it was withdrawal. Joly agreed with his analysis and told him the best thing to do.

 

Soon the house was empty except for Grantaire and Enjolras.

Enjolras poured them both glasses of wine and heated up some food. He then told her that it was withdrawal and she said that she'd gone through it before and thought she could handle it, but kept forgetting to take care of herself.

“Now I think you owe me two drinks for having to put up with all this,” Enjolras said before taking a drink of wine.

“Deal,” Grantaire said, then she took a sip of her own wine, “Damn that tastes good,” she sighed, “Although, I don't think that this is the proper way to treat alcohol withdrawal.

“Yeah.... probably not,” Enjolras shrugged, “Joly said that I should probably take you to the hospital or at least get you food and water.”

“So, it's really what you wanted?” She asked sheepishly.

“Yes. What was wrong with it in the first place?”

“One of the birds was a black bird when I'd meant to make it a starling,” Grantaire said, blushing. 

“You got very involved didn't you?” Enjolras smiled.

“I wanted to please you,” she said quickly, “to do my very best. To raise your opinions of me. I know that with the drinking and cynical nature you don't think much about me. I guess I wanted to change that. But I kept messing up, and I thought that I'd never get it perfect. Then I had messed up the lighting on one kid's hair and by the time I had that as perfect as I could I realized that I'd painted the wrong birds in the wrong places, and I was shaking and not thinking well and emotional. All I could think about was that nothing I could do was perfect. I was innately imperfect. That I could never please a god like you. I was upset and so as I left the attic I just kept seeing all these nice things and how Courfeyrac is practically giving them to me when I don't deserve it. So I started crying. Then when Courf and Marius tried to comfort me, I couldn't stop.”

“Withdrawal plus the inability to see self worth plus one tiny mistake equals emotional break down?” Enjolras questioned. 

“I guess I'm just passionate about my work,” she replied, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Enjolras smiled.

“That sounds like someone else I know,” He replied lightly.

“Yeah....” Grantaire looked down at her food.

“For the record. I do think about you. I have a high opinion of your opinions, since they're usually good points,” he said honestly. He wasn't very good at emotions, but he figured it was best to be kind and honest.

“Ah I suppose if that's all the god of sunshine knows me for.... I'll have to accept it,” Grantaire shrugged, smiling playfully, but still not looking at him.

“And you're crazy talented. And you're right, I don't like the drinking, but it's part of who you are, which I like over all,” Enjolras admitted, surprising himself. But then he couldn't seem to stop there, “And you're smart, and kind, and loving, and passionate, and beautiful, and-”

“You think I'm beautiful?” Grantaire looked up suddenly, eyes wide with surprise.

Enjolras blushed and looked down, “Yeah.”

Grantaire blushed as well,“Thank you.” She said softly.

“You're welcome,” Enjolras looked up, meeting her eyes. Grantaire grinned. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a roller coaster chapter. please review. Also note that, if you have Alcohol Withdrawal, you should always go to the hospital or to your doctor. DO NOT JUST DRINK SOME WINE AND THINK IT'S FINE! (Ha that rhymed. But don't do it).

**Author's Note:**

> Please Kudo's and review! Enjoy!


End file.
